


Horny Haunting

by EvilFuzzy9



Category: Naruto
Genre: Chikan, Dubious Consent, F/M, Ghost Sex, Ghosts, Hinata is too nice for her own good, Kushina the Memetic Molester, Molestation, Non-Consensual Groping, Rape, Self recrimination, Sexual Harassment, Skinship, Yuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-13 21:52:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7987510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilFuzzy9/pseuds/EvilFuzzy9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naruto and Hinata spend a night in an old hotel. Hinata finds it to be a most unique experience. [ntr, chikan, masturbation, light smut]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Chikan no Yuurei Ryokan_.  
  
Despite herself, Hinata couldn't help frowning a touch suspiciously at the name of the inn. It had been her idea for her and Naruto's honeymoon to be a kind of journey to all the notable places he had seen in his travels, and while for the most part this had proven a very fruitful and rewarding decision, it was inevitable that in her insistence to see all the places he had seen, they would find themselves in many locations whence he had been dragged by Jiraiya.  
  
Of course this took them to many interesting locales, and a number of them were surprisingly nice. In particular there were a good many hotsprings, bars, and resorts in her husband's repertoire, hammered into his head by his late mentor's unwholesomely motivated love of such establishments. Some of them were of an indecent nature in some way or other, certainly, but even this was not so bad when she considered that half of the reason for this trip was for them to ease into the new reality of their wedded life.  
  
It was a very extended honeymoon, one prolonged well beyond the hot springs trip gifted them by Shikamaru and Temari-san. And thinking of that hotsprings made Hinata think of the other wedding gifts, and she smiled briefly. There had been a very eccentric variety, and in particular she thought of that bottle of rare honey wine from Kiba and Shino that was alleged to enhance fertility and... well,  _that_  they were saving for a special occasion. Hinata almost giggled, too, at the thought of Lee and Guy's gifts, barbells for her and Naruto, so fitting and yet so wonderfully beyond the pale. Her smile widened further, thinking gladly and wistfully of all their friends back in Konoha... at least until she looked once more up at the sign of the inn.  
  
Then her smile faltered yet again, and she gave her husband— _her husband_ , this was still such a new and marvelous notion—a look that was somewhere between doubtful, concerned, reproving, and imploring. He met her eye with an easy, somewhat giddy smile that said he, too, was still a touch high on the thrill of being newlywed even now, a month after their marriage was formalized.  
  
Naruto shrugged.  
  
"What is it? The name?" he asked her, looking up at the sign with a faintly nostalgic smile. "Don't mind that, it's nothing. Pervy Sage said it was just based on some old local superstition."  
  
Hinata was slightly surprised at the ease with which Naruto said this, considering his longstanding fear of ghosts. He must have seen the doubt or mild disbelief in her eyes, because he laughed and gestured reassuringly.  
  
"C'mon, honey!" he said, addressing her the way he'd often heard husbands address their wives, a way that had never yet failed to melt her. "It's too silly to believe in, isn't it? Who ever heard of ghost gropers? Or groping ghosts, whatever. It's just a joke for tourists."  
  
Hinata, despite her own lingering misgivings at the surely rather indecent attitude of any inn that would call itself, ironically or not,  _Chikan no Yuurei_ , relaxed at her husband's assurances. To be honest, it really didn't look like the sort of inn where you might expect to have trouble with serial gropers, whether spirits or otherwise. It was actually quite a nice establishment by the look of it, and not really all that far off the beaten path.  
  
So, half out of fondness for her husband, and half out of shared disbelief that this name really could be anything other than a vaguely tasteless joke about some obscure local legend, Hinata allowed herself to be warmly cajoled into crossing the threshold. Once inside they went through the usual process of buying a room for the night, chatting amicably with the  _okami_  even as they haggled.  
  
The owner of the inn was a woman somewhere in late middle age, her face lined and creased with years of smiles, but still showing a hint of lingering youthful features. She was a handsome woman, and Hinata didn't doubt that in her prime she had been most strikingly attractive. Her demeanor was light and easygoing, and the woman seemed to be fond of flirtation and off-color jokes. She actually hit on Naruto, jokingly, saying that he looked very nice now that he'd filled out.  
  
Sayuri Kanjino was the name she gave, and as she told it the name of the inn had originally been a tribute on the part of her great grandmother to her untimely departed husband, Yuusuke Kanjino, a play on his name and—according to the family story—his regrettable habit of peeping on and fondling female guests.  _Chikan no Yuurei_  was just an inside joke and a slightly stretched pun. Any stories about ghosts molesting guests were, Sayuri calmly told them, complete fiction.  
  
"But if you  _do_  run into such a spirit," she added wryly. "Give him greetings from his great granddaughter."  
  
Naruto laughed at that and said they would.  
  
Hinata, though, couldn't help noticing a brief, almost imperceptible flicker of something else in the woman's demeanor. Having only a portion of her late cousin Neji's skill at reading people with the byakugan, Hinata couldn't be sure what it was. It may have just been the okami biting back another laugh.  
  
Still, the twinkle in the woman's eyes stayed with her well into the night.  
  
The hotsprings adjoining the inn were co-ed, and Hinata enjoyed a nice soak with her husband. They didn't do much of anything graphic in the water—the heat was too much for that, and they had already learned from prior, regrettable experience that water made for a very poor lubricant. Still, it wasn't as though they didn't appreciate the sight and feel and fact of one another's nakedness, nor as if they stayed shyly at opposite ends of the springs. They had consummated their union enough times by now not to be too especially shy with intimacy, let alone simply bathing together.  
  
But Hinata was, despite this, a little uncomfortable for much of their soak. Something made her feel self conscious, like she was being watched. She didn't bring it up to Naruto, though, remembering how he had reacted the last time someone tried to peep on her. Anyways, she was almost sure it was nothing. Just her imagination, probably, overactive with ridiculous thoughts provoked by the innkeeper's anecdotes and the inn's unsubtly suggestive name.  
  
Still, at one point she had been tempted to activate her byakugan and check, just to be  _absolutely certain_. She quickly declined this idea, however. She didn't want to inadvertently peek in on any other guests who might be at the inn, after all, that would be rude, and dreadfully embarrassing even if no one but her ever knew about it. So Hinata told herself that it was nothing, and she focused on enjoying the time spent together with her husband. It was nice, and she soon forgot almost entirely about any concerns regarding possible voyeurs.  
  
After they were done with the springs and had eaten a light, minimal snack, they got ready for bed. It had been a long trip coming to the inn, and while Naruto was usually up for it whenever Hinata was, on that particular night he seemed almost inexplicably lethargic. It was all he could do to keep his eyes open long enough to say  _G'night, Hinata_ , before he was off and snoring.  
  
She wasn't disappointed about this.  
  
...Well, okay, maybe she was just a  _little_  disappointed. But considering their track record so far, this was the only time since their wedding that she had been in the mood and he'd been too tired to help with that. Moreover, it HAD been the other way around a few times before this. Fair was fair, and it was hardly the end of the world. Hinata could get herself to sleep just fine. She had a good imagination, and eyes that could see through solid lead. She had all the fodder she needed in her mind, and in the sight and warmth of her husband lying on the futon beside her.  
  
So she discarded her clothes slowly, either not perceiving or not caring about a slight prickle in the base of her neck. Neatly setting her garments aside, if not going quite so far as to fold and stack them, Hinata let her naked body rest for a moment. She was atop the covers, more for her own guilty excitement than any consideration of practicality, her sizable breasts slowly rising and falling.  
  
Her body quivered, and a flush spread over her face. Slowly, looking at Naruto beside her, Hinata activated her byakugan for an imagination-fueling glimpse of his naked body. The transition from ordinary, forward-facing human vision to the byakugan's nearly all-seeing three hundred and sixty degrees had once been a disorienting sensation, something that tripped her up like a punch in the gut, an instant of dizzying vertigo as her mind adjusted to the sudden, profound transformation of one of her fundamental senses. But by now she was mostly used to it.  
  
It wasn't something that could be described in language comprehensible to those not possessing byakugan. Explaining the swell, the widening and lengthening and deepening of sight that came with her doujutsu's activation, the way focus became meaningless, all details equally clear and visible, limited only by her mind's capacity to process... well, for starters, terms like  _line of sight_  meant nothing when speaking of Byakugan. It was more a telescopic bubble extending well beyond an ordinary person's range of vision, sharp enough by far to count the whiskers on a mouse curled up in a dark, impenetrable thicket at the other end of a field.  
  
Even if the brain was designed to focus on only a narrow range of sight, a Hyuuga's eyes could  _see_  everything at once. It was full peripheral vision without any blurring, and all she had to do was concentrate on a specific point within her omnidirectional view for it to seem to expand, to grow nearer and clearer even while everything else also remained in view. She devoted her mental energies to inspect a pebble across town, and she could make out every slightest detail of its shape, color, and texture both inside and out while also still seeing—if not processing—everything else in range. It was the difference between looking and  _looking_.  
  
Having byakugan active or inactive was nearly as profound as the difference between blindness and sight, and all of this made it taxing to use, mentally draining even if the expenditure of chakra was neglible to any adult Hyuuga. Which was probably part of why Hinata activated her eyes for only a moment, only just long enough to refresh her mental image of Naruto's naked body under the blanket and his pajamas. And she focused solely on his body, shutting out everything else from her notice, if not from her actual sight.  
  
Yet she could still notice something out of the norm, and this moment of activation was just long enough for her to catch the slightest flicker of a pale shadow, a gleam like moonlight on the surface of a murky lake, an instant before she felt a touch. Not her own touch, though she had raised her hands to begin. Nor was it her husband's touch, still fast asleep as he was. Another touch it was, one that she might call cool or even cold, yet rather than chilling her it warmed her flesh, and an electric shiver raced up her spine.  
  
Hinata's byakugan was still active. She still saw all around herself. She could see her own back if she wanted. Not as from behind, of course, but she could see through the layers of all her body in every direction, and if she so desired then she could assemble that absolute, thread-by-thread perception into a solid, truly three dimensional awareness entirely surpassing this paltry, primitive thing everyone called  _eyesight_.  
  
Her backside deformed. She recognized the feeling, and the look of her buttocks rolling and depressing, white cheeks furrowed and reddened, kneaded as if by fingers, although she saw naught but an ephemeral shimmer. An invisible hand grabbed her ass with perfect ease, despite the fact that she was lying on her back with her bum against the covers and no room for any such hand to have slipped up underneath her.  
  
One of her breasts squashed and rolled at nearly the same time, stretching and wobbling in a manner so lewd that Hinata nearly lost all sense and cried out at the sight and feel of it. She stared in bewildered amazement, feeling with a growing, not completely unwelcome sense of pleasure how some nearly invisible nonhand seized and fondled her plump, creamy, tender teat. Her nipple stood erect in a chill, but her skin was warm as though touched by her beloved.  
  
Despite herself, a soft whine escaped Hinata's mouth. She arched her back, her mind racing in circles, running around itself in a slight panic of witless thought. Many notions half-formed and fragmented passed through her head, but nothing seemed to stick, nothing resembling a sensible or logical idea able to assemble itself inside her brain.  
  
Nothing, that is, save for a sole, simple, almost animal awareness.  
  
 _I'm being touched._  
  
So basic was this thought that by itself it could scarcely be called conscious thought at all, merely an automatic stream of sensory data that meant next to nothing alone. Yet it rooted itself in her awareness, and as a stone cast into a stream that snags a drifting branch, more thoughts accumulated around this, more and more and more, a fractal reassembly of conscious processes as a torrent of notions and impulses and randomly firing neurons arranged themselves into coherence.  
  
 _I'm being molested_ , was next to emerge, a close successor of the first proto-thought, just as simple when phrased yet belying a deeper and more intricate knot of social values, abstract concepts, and pattern association. Shortly after that were the simpler, more reflexive,  _Who's molesting me?_  and  _I can't see anyone._  The former was a fair query, but the latter, Hinata presently realized, was technically incorrect.  
  
She  **could**  see something, and it was a something that might even be considered a someone or part of someone, perhaps, given its behavior regarding her body. She could see it, like yet unlike chakra, not quite that formless inner energy wrangled from natural turbulences into the orderly shape and pattern of woven ninjutsu. Its substance was akin to chakra, but separate, and she realized that it held similarity to the spiritual component, the pure energy of mind and soul bereft of physical form and substance.  
  
It was like the imprint of a hand on steamed-over glass, an absence that was presence, and a presence like an absence. It was as mist corraled into a bodily shape, thin and wispy and barely real, a hand that wasn't a hand, but a memory of a hand so deeply graven into the air that the air itself became its likeness.  
  
Or so it seemed.  
  
A spectral hand like the sensation of  _kanashibari_ , ghost paralysis, her body frozen and unable to move on its own, her mind conscious yet holding no acknowledged dominion over the flesh in which it dwelt. Her body rebelled through inaction against the tyranny of thought, and scarcely held together as it was by a running chain of scattered reasoning, her mind was powerless and quickly going a little mad.  
  
That was how she would justify it to herself after the fact, at least, how she would clear her conscience of any self-accused infidelity. She had no choice in the matter, that was what she would say: her body had not been her own, and her mind had passed beyond all sense. She went temporarily insane.  
  
That was the excuse she would make. A rather poor excuse it would be, too, for even as the hands continued to work their way over her body, Hinata half-consciously perceived a restored agency of limb and member: not full control, but enough to curl her toes and squirm and move her arms, enough to lie there and shiver and show how this treatment shamefully aroused her.  
  
For it did arouse her. Hinata was not faithless, and she loved her husband more than anyone, but however resolute the spirit, the flesh tended to be weak and pliable. Her body was accepting this molestation, these ghostly hands on her breasts and her bottom, her thighs and shoulders, her back and belly and nape and soles, roaming inexorably and insatiably over every inch of her fair, curvacous form. Her body was aroused, however weakly defiant her mind.  
  
Hinata bit back a moan. Witlessly, she thought that she did not want Naruto to see her like this, fearing without logical thought that he would view her inaction as faithless, or even a willful invitation to the ghostly hands that traveled now here and now there over her naked, aching, writhing body. It was a ridiculous thought, but Hinata couldn't help herself. She felt too horny, too aroused and excited to really think straight.  
  
The hands squeezed her breasts, pinched her nipples. Hinata felt her brain melt, what little process of thought she'd managed to retain quickly dissolving into nothing. Lust was all she felt, a shameful and disgraceful enjoyment for how these hands treated her. She wanted to rebuke herself for letting this happen, somewhere in the back of her mind, but she could not. She didn't have the strength of will, or any such powers as could beat back a  _spirit_.  
  
All she could do was lie there and pray, and in these circumstances it was very difficult to commune with any sort of god.  
  
Hinata once more felt the urge to moan. Her pussy... her pussy was being spread open. Something thrust inside her blossom, and her eyes rolled up in her sockets, her mouth gaping wretchedly open as a burning blush blossomed into newfound extremes of redness. Her bottom smacked the futon, buttocks quaking as they were fondled and kneaded. It felt like she was clay in a sculptor's hands, being worked into something else than her nature by skillful, masterful hands that she simply could not resist. She was being made into something lewd and shameful, something obscene, a married woman molested in her bed, groped by an unseeable assailant while her husband slept unaware beside her.  
  
Why? What was this?  
  
Hinata realized that she knew the feeling between her legs. It was hard, something rigid displacing her vaginal walls, running through the folds and creases of a yet fresh sex. She'd done this with Naruto-kun several times, now, but she wasn't so jaded to it, and she wasn't even remotely calloused against the stimuli of a cock inside her womanhood. It thrilled her in a way that made her feel deeply ashamed, and that shame excited her as much as anything she'd ever done with her husband.  
  
This ghost wasn't just groping her anymore. It was... it was...  
  
No, no, Hinata couldn't allow herself to think it. Such a word was something she daren't voice, even only in the confines of her own imagination.  
  
Yet... it didn't feel bad. It didn't hurt, it didn't feel  _wrong_ , not in the profoundly horrible way she expected. It was inconsiderate, she thought detachedly, immensely rude for this ghost—for ghost it surely was—to enter into her without asking permission. Maybe she was in shock, and that was why she could muster no more vehement opinion, could think of nothing more recriminating to think.  
  
This was wrong, of course it was. But still, it felt  **good**. She couldn't deny that.  
  
It didn't make this right. Didn't mean this was acceptable.  
  
But Hinata was a kind, gentle soul. Like her husband she was given to empathy, prone to see good even in the worst, and she was moved easily to pity. Perhaps it was foolish of her, but she felt almost sorry for this spirit, now. It didn't seem malevolent, a naive part of her thought. It was just lonely. It simply longed for the touch of a woman's body.  
  
Perhaps it was criminal and indecent when done by the living, but... Hinata couldn't recall any precedent of the dead being convicted for offenses carried out after death.  
  
She sighed, and with less effort than she expected, Hinata managed to relax.  
  
"Yuusuke-ojiisama, was it?" she whispered into the air, barely managing to shape the words through her soft whines and whimpers. "Your great granddaughter says hello."  
  
She felt a thrill of touch at this, a confirmation or acknowledgement perhaps, and her body seemed to melt deeper into a puddle of carnal bliss. Hinata closed her eyes, taking note of this and trying to think of what her husband would do in her place.  
  
It wasn't entirely applicable, but...  
  
"If something is holding you to this world, if some regret is keeping you from passing on... then exhaust it on me. I'll take your regrets and help you find rest," she promised.  
  
Her back arched with another jolt of pleasure. Hinata felt a slick friction inside her, the grinding of a phantom cock working itself in and out of her cunt. It was perversely satisfying, and she felt inappropriately content with the spirit's actions. This was enjoyable. Shamefully, delightfully exciting and arousing.  
  
She closed her eyes, melting into the pleasure. It was bliss. Moaning aloud, Hinata bucked her hips.  
  
She was slipping away. Passing from consciousness into... into...  
  
She came. This ghostly molester made her come, assaulting her with hands, more hands than she could count, innumerable hands of every size and shape.  
  
Contented in the numbing buzz of orgasm, feeling a quiet surety that her actions would help in some small way to exorcise this spirit, Hinata let herself fall asleep beside her husband. A second ghostly cock prodded her anus, a third slipped between her breasts, a fourth poking her lips and asking to enter. Sleeping dreamily, Hinata had no power or desire to resist.  
  
The ghosts would have their fun all night long.  
  
Hinata did not hear the footsteps of the innkeeper pass outside the door. Nor did she see Sayuri Kanjino look in on the sight of the Byakugan Princess getting molested and more by a small legion of hopelessly perverted ghosts. The okami giggled sultrily at this and undid the front of her yukata, exposing remarkably pert and smooth breasts, large breasts which promptly deformed when a greedy, nigh invisible pair of hands latched onto them.  
  
"Are you and your friends having fun, husband dear?" she asked lightly, goodnaturedly.  
  
The ghost of Yuusuke Kanjino pinched Sayuri's nipples and made her moan, the only answer he could any longer give.  
  
"Mmm... that's good," Sayuri purred. She licked her lips. Already some of the creases were leaving her face, her skin acquiring a more youthful sheen and her hair growing lusher, richer, and darker.  
  
Yes. This would be a very fun, very fruitful night indeed.  
  
Leaf kunoichi were  _always_  so good to her pets.


	2. Kushina's Karma

"Thank you, Sayuri-san. You've been a big help."  
  
The okami bowed low to her guest at these words, smiling with her deeply lined and wrinkled face. Being a woman of fairly advanced age, it was clearly difficult for her to do this, and Kushina felt a twinge of guilt.  
  
"It's a pleasure to serve you, honored guest," said the elderly woman, Sayuri Kanjino, addressing the Blood-Red Habanero. "I hope you sleep well."  
  
Kushina nodded to the old innkeeper, waving a touch absentmindedly. Sayuri left, closing the door behind her.  
  
_Well, at least it's quiet out here._  
  
This was the main thought on Kushina's mind as she began to undress. It was rare for a kunoichi to get vacation time even in peace, and when the continent was such a powder keg of political tension and martial posturing that usually preceded an outbreak of war, it was nothing short of miraculous to get her leave approved. But it had been, even despite her status as Konoha's jinchuuriki.  
  
The Sandaime was, perhaps, growing a touch sentimental in his middle age. He'd always been a little more indulgent toward her than others, certainly, but she had hardly thought, when she first submitted her request for leave, that he would approve it without so much as a single condition. Or a condition that she would have found onerous, at least.  
  
Kushina smiled to herself, and she looked over at Mikoto. They weren't super close friends, the two of them, but she liked the woman and the woman liked her, seemingly. They got on pleasantly, and they certainly had some amount of friendship to speak of. It wasn't bad at all, that the only condition of her vacation had been that Mikoto had to come along.  
  
In Kushina's mind, that only made it better. There was all KINDS of bonding the two of them could do! And sure, Mikoto was effectively Kushina's bodyguard at present, the jounin Uchiha kunoichi one of the stronger ninja from their particular generation, but that was fine. More than fine, even: it was  _excellent_.  
  
"Kanjino-baasan seems like a nice old crone, yeah?"  
  
Mikoto made a sound that might have been a chuckle.  
  
"That's not very nice of you," said the slender, raven-haired beauty. "You should speak more respectfully of your elders."  
  
"I do, I do," said Kushina dismissively, watching as Mikoto casually disrobed. They were in the changing room adjacent to the hot spring, a co-ed facility according to the brochure. Kushina wondered idly if Mikoto—so prim, proper, and demure—was fretful at the idea of potentially sharing a soak with dirty old men or randy young perverts.  
  
For herself, it was no worry at all.  
  
But then, for all her own curves, Kushina had to admit that Mikoto was the more feminine looking of them, and the one more likely to be advanced on by some unwitting jackass. She herself was a sexy bombshell, Kushina knew this perfectly, knew she had filled out splendidly in womanhood, but from her experience men in these lands tended to be meek and easily intimidated. Mikoto's classical, nonthreatening beauty was more likely to draw flirtation than Kushina's fearsomely bodacious form.  
  
She grinned, watching the pale curve of Mikoto's backside peek out as her last garment was removed. The cheeks were round and white, perky and deceptively soft-looking. A cute, dark crevice split the mounds of Mikoto's spankable rump, and Kushina licked her lips. It made her shiver a little guiltily to look at Mikoto's ass, at her now-naked form, fair and lithe and feminine. The Uchiha had a very  _Uchiha_  sort of figure, slender and slight and delicate to look at.  
  
If Kushina were a man, she had a feeling she'd have been rock hard right now. Her eyes twinkled mischievously, lustily, drinking in Mikoto's nudity. A thought occurred to her, and she grinned widely, putting away the last of her own clothes and grabbing a towel. She did not wrap it around her body.  
  
"Heeey, Mikoto-chaaan~" the redhead singsonged, turning and cocking her hips, leaning forward and letting her ample, weighty breasts dangle. "Have you heard the rumors about this inn?"  
  
There was mischief in Kushina's tone, and she pitched her voice low, speaking with a creepy rasp. Her eyes gleamed, and her tits swayed minutely, catching Mikoto's eye. The Uchiha looked intently despite herself at the pendulous, corpulent hills of Kushina's bust. She felt a warmth grow in her face and knew that she was starting to blush.  
  
Mikoto looked away before Kushina could see the bloom of pink in her cheeks.  
  
"What rumors?" she asked mildly, swallowing.  
  
"That it's haunted, of course. You really haven't heard?" Kushina brought her face up alongside Mikoto's, leaning over the other woman's shoulder.  
  
Mikoto shook her head, and this action caused her cheek to brush Kushina's. The redhead purred, pressing her bosom close into Mikoto's back, her vast and doughy tits squashing against the Uchiha's form. She raised a hand into Mikoto's field of view and flexed her fingers, curling them suggestively.  
  
"Haunted, you say...?"  
  
"Yeah, by really awful sorts of ghosts," Kushina said. "I hear any young woman who stays here gets molested by evil spirits. Some say they've even been raped~"  
  
Mikoto shivered, more from Kushina choosing that moment to lay a hand on her chest than from the words she spoke. Kushina squeezed one of her breasts, kneading it slowly and making Mikoto whimper. Then she brought a hand up between Mikoto's smooth white thighs, pressing two fingers up against the slit of Mikoto's pussy.  
  
"Ahh...! K-Kushina...!"  
  
"That's not all," the redhead continued, breathing hotly and heavily in Mikoto's ear. "They say the okami is in on it, and that she controls the ghosts and makes them rape her female guests. Maybe you'll get a nice, big ghost cock up your tight little ass, eh~? I'd pay to see that~❤"  
  
She rubbed her fingers up and down, teasing Mikoto's pussy. She rolled a modest tit in her hand, just big enough to be too much to span completely with her grasp, and pinched a stiff, puffy nipple. Her tongue flitted out to tease her escort's earlobe.  
  
"It... It's just a s-story..." Mikoto whimpered, panting and trying not to moan. "If this... if there were such ghosts... this place would... nobody would really..."  
  
" _Come?_ " Kushina breathed, her voice dripping with coy smugness and suggestion.  
  
She thrust her fingers up Mikoto's slot. The other kunoichi gasped, cried out, and shuddered.  
  
Kushina grinned, feeling Mikoto's arousal gush out over her digits. The woman went slack in her arms, slumping and gasping for breath, feeble and limp and sweaty.  
  
She chuckled.  
  
"Heh. You've got a pretty face, but you're a real lightweight, aren't you?"  
  
Saying this, Kushina went alone into the onsen.  
  
She did not notice the shadowy figure which stooped over Mikoto's insensate form.  
  
  
  
  
The water was heavenly. Its heat sank into her bones and soothed her aching muscles. Soaking in the hot springs relaxed and relieved her, the steam coiling around her voluptuous form, wreathing her scarlet head. The water rose up her form, wrapping her curvaceous body in its softly simmering embrace.  
  
Her breasts floated a little in the water, and Kushina thought with amusement about how cute it would be if some handsome young fellow were to see her tits as they bobbed slowly up and down, her nipples dipping in and out of the spring. It warmed her with pleasure to consider this, and glittering gray eyes flitted over her surroundings.  
  
Almost a pity that there wasn't anyone else in here at present. She would have liked someone to show off to, or even just someone to chat with. Soaking in the onsen was fine for a little while, but when you were alone it eventually got  _boring_. Kushina found herself nearly wishing that she hadn't teased Mikoto with that bogus ghost story. It would have been nice to soak with the woman and harass her in the springs proper.  
  
A smile slipped across her lips as she thought of her friend. Hehe... yes, that could have been fun.  
  
But, oh well. No use crying over spilled milk.  
  
"It was fun playing with her back there, anyways," Kushina mused to herself, shifting in the water. She rubbed her thighs together, feeling a shiver go up her back. "Mm, Mikoto-chan is too darn cute. I wish she could be my wife..."  
  
Kushina giggled at this unserious remark, neither joke nor wholly earnest. She reclined further, closing her eyes and soaking deeper.  
  
Suddenly she felt a prickling. There was tingle in the back of her neck.  
  
Kushina tensed up instantly, briefly, falling back on instinct and reflex at the sudden perception of a presence besides her own. She forced herself to relax, however, at least on the surface, and surreptitiously cast a glance over her shoulder. She hadn't  _heard_  anyone coming out...  
  
And she didn't see anyone, either. Kushina frowned and turned more obviously in the water, standing and rising halfway out. Her breasts dripped hot mineral water, her upper body glistening with the sheen of moisture. Her skin was pink from the heat and soft, smooth, much revitalized by her soak thus far.  
  
Kushina still felt that prickle in her neck, the certainty of instinct that someone was here. Yet she couldn't see or hear any sign of them. If somebody  _was_  here, she could not perceive them save by a gut feeling. She had long ago learned to trust her gut, though, even if the Kyuubi was sealed therein.  
  
"Hello," said Kushina lightly, addressing whatever presence had tripped her sixth sense. "Is that you, Mikoto-chan? Are you sulking?"  
  
It wasn't inconceivable that this presence might have belonged to the other kunoichi. Mikoto was especially talented in the traditional shinobi arts, in silent movement and the evasion of sight. She could erase her presence with exceptional grace, becoming no more than a shadow and a whisper in the still night air.  
  
No response came to her address, however. If it  _was_  Mikoto, then she really was being very sulky. Not that she didn't have a fair basis, after what Kushina had done... but Kushina would say that it had been all in good fun.  
  
A moment more of silence passed, and Kushina felt the prickling of her senses triple. Frowning, feeling a little perturbed by this so very acute impression of somebody standing there and watching her, Kushina slowly and tentatively rose the whole way from the onsen. She stepped out of the water, treading with bare, wet feet that slapped audibly on the ground.  
  
Pressure like a giant vice grip bore suddenly down upon her. Nearly the instant she stepped away from the spring, Kushina felt herself pinned as if by a  _kanashibari no jutsu_. This wasn't a jutsu, though. She could tell that at once. Rather, it was...  
  
A hand pressed against her bare flesh. It sank an inch or two into her bosom, fingers easily enveloped by the soft, ample tissues of her teat. It was a cool touch, one that made her shiver, and electricity danced through her skin at the contact. But Kushina could not see any hand. All she saw was the outline of a hand pressed into her flesh, of fingers kneading and stroking her bosom, chafing the raw and tender skin of her tits. It was soothing, after the heat of the springs, and yet it hurt.  
  
"What...?! M-Mikoto?" Kushina stammered out, startled by this seemingly invisible person grabbing her. "Ahh, that isn't funny. If you're gonna grope me, then do at least let me see you while you're doing it..."  
  
Again, she got no answer. Except, no, that wasn't entirely true. Nothing was  _said_ , not verbally, but the hands grabbing her did tighten their grip, did squeeze harder and more possessively. And now she noticed that one of the hands was able to encompass a third of her left tit, and this was by no means a small area. They were too large, then, to be Mikoto's dainty little beauties.  
  
This was something, at least. Hands that big, they were probably a man's. Oddly, Kushina couldn't discern how rough or hard they were. They were somehow textureless, even immaterial-seeming. It was a bizarre impression, and one that she could not reconcile with any common sense understanding, but all the same it was what she felt.  
  
Another hand grabbed her arm. It held tightly, gripping with an iron firmness. Kushina did not get an impression of physical strength from this hold, but neither did it feel like one she could break out of. It was like a phantom sensation, something she couldn't just explain as somebody under a camouflage jutsu.  
  
Perhaps it was an illusion?  
  
Kushina tried scrambling her chakra. It was harder than it needed to be, what with one arm being held fast to her side and preventing her from weaving a proper seal to focus, but she thought she did a good job of it. Good enough to break any genjutsu she'd encountered thus far.  
  
But nothing changed. The hands remained, invisible and bizarrely insubstantial. She was pushed to the ground, laid out on her back, and she realized dimly that whoever or whatever this was, they were going to rape her. If Kushina were a civilian, she might have lost her wits from terror. Even as a kunoichi, this was a frightful prospect.  
  
Yet it was not what she viewed as the worst thing that could happen to her. She was a ninja of the Uzumaki clan, and a jinchuuriki besides. She had seen battle and bloodshed and death, suffering and senseless destruction. Moreover she had lived the last decade and change of her life knowing that she would not die a natural death, brooding inevitably on the almost certain means of her demise.  
  
The Nine-Tails would someday need to be extracted from her, taken out of her body and transferred to a new host. For her to die in any other way would rob the state of a great asset, and moreover eventually loose a fearful power on the world. From the moment she became a jinchuuriki, she was denied the right to die on her own terms. She was at best a living cage, and at worst a walking weapon. In either case, a human sacrifice.  
  
Compared to this, what was rape? A terrible thing, surely, a most invasive act and a deep trespass on her personal rights, but it could sully her no more deeply than she had already been. It was an assault, like being stabbed in the gut: to a civilian this was a traumatic, life changing thing. But to a ninja it wasn't anything much. A mere inconvenience, really.  
  
Kushina felt the head of a cock rub between her labia. Her legs were spread, bent sharply at the knee and seeming to float halfway in air. It felt like they were draped over someone's shoulders. Her arms were pinioned at her sides, and her body was pressed to the ground. A shudder went down her spine as she realized what was about to happen.  
  
It was not entirely a shudder of revulsion.  
  
Kushina was not a very passive woman in most regards. She was bold, willful, and outgoing. She had all the fiery spirit of her Uzumaki ancestors, a sanguine and excitable lot. But in that moment all she could think to do, all she could even dare, was to moan and sigh and whimper. Her face burned red, and her eyes glazed over.  
  
What was happening? What  _was_  all of this?  
  
A part of her knew. In some way, she had realized.  
  
Maybe it was karma, some measure of divine retribution for her teasing of Mikoto. The story she had told, that stupid, cheesy, half-assed ghost story about this ridiculously named  _Chikan no Yuurei Ryokan_  had seemingly come true. Had it always been true? Was this place really haunted by pervert ghosts, by gropers and voyeurs and rapists?  
  
That seemed like the logical conclusion in this circumstance, no matter how outlandish it really sounded. This inn was haunted, and she was about to be raped by a ghost. It really was like some kind of irony, considering how she had teased Mikoto.  
  
Kushina laughed. It was slightly hysterical.  
  
The ghost did not so much as pause. It ran its hands over her body, and it pressed its manhood to her sex. It rubbed against her labia, sliding up and down her pubic mound without actually penetrating, teasing her nether lips and making her hiss frustratedly. The cock felt large and hard, and ethereal or not it gave the impression of being solid enough to fuck her silly.  
  
Despite herself, Kushina was growing increasingly eager at this thought. She didn't feel dismayed. She wasn't afraid. Hell, she was honestly starting to  _want_  this. Ghost or not, cock was cock, and she was a very perverted sort of woman. A toothy, vapidly obscene grin curled her lips, and she bucked her hips with a grunt, a groan, a wordless entreaty.  
  
_Fuck me,_  she moaned without speaking. Everything about her posture and voice and flush and smell betrayed a deep, hungry arousal. She was starved for sex, abstinent thus far by circumstance rather than choice, and the prospect of good, vigorous intercourse was exciting her to the point of not caring at all whom she fucked, not so long as sex was had.  
  
She was horny, seriously horny. If the ghost could tell this much, it gave no sign, still going at its own pace. It fondled her breasts, and pressed cool, transparent lips to her cheek, and torturously rubbed its cock against her. Kushina begged aloud, abandoning all pretense of dignity and defiance.  
  
"Dammit,  _damn it_ ," she hissed. "Just fuck me, you bastard. Can't you tell when a woman wants it?"  
  
She looked into a misty, shadowy mirage that might have been the ghost's face. Somehow she got the impression that it was smiling.  
  
_Squelch!_  
  
Kushina cried out, and she arched her back at the sudden action. The ghost finally thrust into her, and it felt even more incredible than she had hoped. It was magnificent. A novel, exciting, erotic scenario like nothing else she'd ever experienced. Her ass slapped the ground, plump and ruddy buttocks smiting wet tiles.  
  
The ghost fucked her. She felt its cock drive in and out of her pussy, back and forth and up and down, grinding side to side with the greedy rock and roll of her hips. Its hands grabbed and groped at her body, molesting her in places she'd hardly known she had. It teased and caressed her with a kind of brusque zeal.  
  
Kushina moaned, her eyes rolling wildly. Her mouth gaped, and her limbs seized with convulsions of electrifying pleasure. Euphoria, it was, ecstasy coursing through every fiber of her being. Carnal delights like no other, a marvelous thing which brought home the fact that she was alive. That she was a  _woman_.  
  
Cock... cock... there was a great, big, glorious cock inside of her. It was magnificent, better even than she could have imagined. Was this her first time? In this delirium of sensation it might have been, for all she knew. It felt like it could be so. She almost hoped it was. The thought of losing her virginity to this ghost, this undead rapist...  
  
Shit! Just considering it made her come, a little. She bit her lip and shivered, her curvaceous form convulsing, her cheeks blazing brilliantly. Her heart pittered and pattered frantically in her breast, feeling for a stretch like it was about to rip itself apart in its manic beating. Her entire body was on fire. It felt like nothing she could think of.  
  
It was without compare.  
  
Kushina sighed, panting heavily, her eyes glassy and half-lidded. Her tongue lolled out, her expression lewd as nothing else, and skin quivered atop roiling hills of bouncy tit-flesh. Her breasts bobbed wildly, leaping up and falling down, clapping wetly together and wobbling, flicking beads of glimmering moisture through the air.  
  
She felt herself scream. She heard herself come. She smelled the reek of her own womanly sex unmingled with any other, yet stuffed to the brim with a cock, a cock, a cock! Her voice rang shrill in the night air, and her mind melted into mush, however briefly, as she was fucked, fucked,  _fucked_.  
  
It was glorious. She felt so content. So dizzyingly weak.  
  
So... weak, indeed...  
  
Kushina sighed, and with a swoon she fell into unconsciousness. The seal on her belly writhed like fire, and chakra coursed out of her.  
  
Sayuri Kanjino stepped out into the onsen, carrying Mikoto's naked body over her shoulder. The okami was nude, and no longer wizened, no longer white-haired and stooped and wrinkled. She looked young, fit, and sensual. A heaving bosom was flush with life, and a plump cunt dripped arousal.  
  
Dark eyes glittered like burning coals, and Sayuri idly caressed Mikoto's backside.  
  
"Goodness, but that one is  _overflowing_  with vitality," she remarked.  
  
Ghost hands lovingly ran themselves over Sayuri's body. Her breasts deformed under a dozen longing grips, and her ass rolled as they were kneaded by wistful palms. Her cunt spread open as a bold, eager cock pushed itself up into her.  
  
Sayuri smiled and let go of Mikoto. The woman was promptly seized up by a small horde of ghosts and gently laid on the ground, before they proceeded to ravish her. It was a delightful sight, and Sayuri purred her enjoyment even as she copulated with the ghost of her long deceased husband.  
  
Kushina watched with this unseeing, uncaring, uncomprehending eyes. They were open despite her unconsciousness, though only the whites were visible.  
  
Her body rocked underneath the ghost as it continued to fuck her.  
  
She moaned blissfully in her sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ah, I'd originally planned for Sayuri to play a more relevant part in this chapter, but beween Mikoto's surprise appearance and everything, she kind of got shunted to the side.
> 
> Updated: 9-19-16
> 
> TTFN and R&R!
> 
> – — ❤

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: NTR isn't really my thing, personally, but I do get requested for it now and then. With that said, this is a pretty mild example of the genre, and not even that smutty at all. Interestingly this is a somewhat recursive "request"-it's based on a picture commissioned by the same person who wanted this fic. Might become a two-parter, too.
> 
> \--Additionally, in entering Hinata's name into the character field, I initially typed "Uzumaki Hinata". That says a lot, I think. XD
> 
> Updated: 9-8-16
> 
> TTFN and R&R!
> 
> – — ❤


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